


Lucky

by citruscake, mirkwood131



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12690117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citruscake/pseuds/citruscake, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirkwood131/pseuds/mirkwood131
Summary: "Y'know," Chanyeol says, face stuffed with a mouthful of pizza, "I'm so happy I met you guys."Kyungsoo pinches his belly, making him wince and almost choke, but Chanyeol continues with his speech:"I mean, my life would have just sucked balls so hard if I hadn’t met you two…”Baekhyun happily sighs, eyes drifting towards the starry sky. "I feel so lucky." he says and Kyungsoo pinches his belly too.Or, the story where a drunk, a stray, and a workaholic grow into the best of friends.





	Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> This work has been inspired by [ Lucky-EXO ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AcfunXTt6yA), or at least it is the theme song for this fic.  
> As you can tell, this is a collaboration with my A-M-A-Z-I-N-G citruscake and I'm mega excited about this! :)  
> Each chapter will be written by one of us and the other will edit it, so it might take a while to upload, since we're also busy with school and stuff. But we will try our best.  
> enjoy:)

“Shit!”

 The extra-large bag of three-cheese chips falls onto the colorful tiles with a sickening crash, announcing their complete and utter destruction.

 Shit is something that Do Kyungsoo has come to say as second nature at this point in his life; when his washing machine breaks and the kitchen floods, when a kid starts crying in fear after seeing his face, or simply, when an unpaid bag of chips just falls on the floor of a convenience store at 8pm on a Thursday night.

 Shit is something that the neighbor from the 8th floor, in the overpriced apartment complex where he lives alone, says in the middle of the night when his condom breaks, but he keeps on going without even telling the chick underneath him.

 Shit is your run of the mill word, halfway between fuck and crap. Shit still manages to make you anxious when you’re 2 seconds away from shouting it at the dining table, in front of your extended family.

 Shit can describe too many things, from the current state of your life, to how bad a meal tastes, or even to what comes out of us. It is indeed everywhere.

 But, when Kyungsoo whispers it in the shop, almost afraid to say it out loud as if he was a kid in front of his mother again, he doesn’t think about that.

He doesn’t think about anything at all; just about the bag of broken chips on the floor beneath him.

He thinks about the fact that he shouldn’t buy the 6th bag of chips he will have eaten that month, even though he keeps telling himself this is the last one every time he gets one.

Finally, he picks the bag up and puts it on the shelf, before he takes a few steps back and stares at the array of junk food in front of him. Loudly, his stomach rumbles, angrily, making him look around to see if anyone nearby had heard. The aisle is empty except for a boy, (at least, that’s what he looks like) eyeing the biscuit section.

 Kyungsoo turns back to the rows of chips, looking at him with pleading potato eyes, their shiny packaging begging to be bought, and finally, he breaks. He takes one from the shelf, throwing it into his basket on the floor next to him. He stares at it for a while longer, arm lingering in the air above the basket, still unsure as guilt begins to hover in his mind: guilt along with the thought that he’s on his way to being too fat to fit through his the door to his apartment.

When he looks up, almost as if by luck, it seems, he spots the same boy, attempting to sneakily shove a few packets of biscuits into his oversized hoodie.

The small shop is deserted, except for the two of them and the worker at the register. As Kyungsoo approaches the boy, he shoves another packet into the pockets of the garment, not even bothering to look around.

So when Kyungsoo grabs his hand, he yelps and jumps in surprise, the biscuits falling to the floor and making the same noise as Kyungsoo’s precious chips.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, voice assertive and stern, ignoring the other’s wriggles in his grip.

The boy doesn’t say anything, only looks down at his feet before he suddenly attempts to sprint in the opposite direction. He doesn’t have any success, however, because Kyungsoo proves himself to be much stronger. Falling to the ground with a painful thud, Kyungsoo grabs the boy’s arm once again, yanking him to his feet.

“I’m taking you to the manager…” he growls. There’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as he tries to understand his sudden reaction to the scene. Many other times, he would have just watched from a distance, silently judging the perpetrator but doing nothing about the crime.

For some unknown reason, this time he feels the need to do something.

Without any visible resistance from the boy, Kyungsoo drags him to the lonely cash register in the far corner of the shop, where a seemingly bored woman is admiring her bright red manicure.

“I caught him stealing.” he drily says, pushing the other forward.

The woman behind the counter doesn’t even look up from her nails. Obnoxiously smacking her bubblegum, she jabs a finger in the direction of the manager’s office.

Kyungsoo just glares at her, another Shit escaping his mouth as he looks in the direction she pointed: towards a white wooden door, hidden behind a tower of carboard boxes. A sign is glued to it, and scribbled in the messiest handwriting Kyungsoo has ever seen is the word “Manager.”

His irritation grows as he curses the brilliant idea of playing good-samaritan, still uncertain as to why he made the decision in the first place. He drags the boy behind him, who has swapped all human emotion for a zombie-like state of being.

Kyungsoo doesn’t even bother to knock at the door, instead shoving it open and forcing his way into the tiny space of the so-called “office.”  It takes him a couple of seconds to adjust to the low luminosity of the room, where the blinds are almost completely shut, with only a rusty lamp in a corner emitting orange light.

He looks around, thinking there’s no one else in there, when he notices a shape on the desk, behind a tome of papers and a dozen bottles; a form which mumbles something incoherent and pushes that mess. A bottle falls on the floor, shattering with a sickening crash that frightens the boy out of his zombie-like state.

Kyungsoo utters another Shit! under his breath. At the same time, the boy shifts in his grip, the small wrist frantically moving underneath his enclosed fist.

“I caught someone stealing from your shop.” he states, receiving another answer of incoherent mumbling and a slight shift of papers.

“Are you alright?” he asks, trying to move forward, but the boy seems heavier than before, stopping him from making another step.

Kyungsoo looks back, and for the first time, he notices the red face and chewed lips of the one behind him. He notices a strange amount of fright in the boy’s eyes, but he continues to ignore it in favor of carrying out his vigilante mission.

“Mister…” Kyungsoo says, looking around for some indication of the manager’s name, “I brought you a shop lifter. Trying to steal from your shop.” He is met only with more grumbles.

Sighing, he musters up enough strength to drag the boy with him, moving forward until he’s standing face to face (rather, face to hair) with the manager that wasn’t giving him a better impression than the seemingly underage shop lifter.

“Wake up!!!” Kyungsoo shouts, voice thick with irritation as he hits the counter top with his fist. “Don’t you hear me?!” he says once again, hitting it once more, with more force, until the manager finally lifts his head.

He does everything in slow motion, looking between his half-closed eyes at Kyungsoo, who has already come to his own conclusion. He glances one more time at the bottles on the desk, two of vodka and around 8 of beer, all empty.

“Whaa-what?” the man asks through chapped lips, rubbing the dark circles underneath his eyes.

His right hand accidentally hits the tome of papers, sending them flying all over the dusty floor. They flutter to the ground with a deafening rustling sound, covering every inch of free surface. The room is silent except for the boy’s heavy breathing, which resembles that of an elephant scared of a mouse. The boy wiggles in Kyungsoo’s grip again, a low whimper escaping his lips.

Kyungsoo lets go of the boy’s hand, disgusted, painfully aware of how grim the place and the so called manager look. Huffing, he turns around to see the boy slowly backing into a corner of the room to slide down on the floor, among the papers.

“I can’t believe this is happening to me,” Kyungsoo almost laughs in disbelief, glancing from one person to another. “A drunk and a mute.”

“Wha-wha-what is happ-pening?” the manager slurs, pinning his too long arms to the desk as he pushes his chair backwards. The only visible results are the said chair falling on the ground and the man barely managing to keep his balance with the help of the same desk.

“What is happening is that I’m leaving this nut job place. That’s what is happening!” Kyungsoo says, rashly striding through the open door, back into the shop, where his eyes have to struggle to readjust to the fluorescent lighting.

“Fuck this shit…” he mutters, pacing around, unsure of whether or not he should pay for his bag of chips and a couple of bananas, or just leave.

He nonetheless spots his lone basket, not too far away from the biscuits aisle, but Kyungsoo decides that the best thing to do is run through the sliding doors, until he’s free, in the street.

“Shiiit!” he says, for the nth time that day, as a car passes by him, loud music thumping from the speakers. “Fuck this fucking day!” Kyungsoo shouts, kicking a rock with his shoe. “Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it, fuck it!!!”

“Fuck it…” he says, this time almost as a whisper.

He looks up at the starless sky, the dangling lights of the city taking their place, blinding and real, hurting his eyes as he stares directly into them. Fingers tingling with need, he rashly grabs the cigarette packet from his coat, picking one out with trembling hands and placing it between his lips. When the first whiff of smoke pervades through him, his body immediately relaxes, melting into his surroundings.

“Don’t leave me here!!” he hears a hoarse cry, coming from behind him and as Kyungsoo turns around, the boy is staring directly at him from between the sliding doors of the convenience store. “Don’t leave me…all alone in there.” he says, slowly walking towards him.

Everything is silent, as the two of them look at each other. Kyungsoo steps back, breathing out a thick cloud of smoke. In that moment, the manager appears from inside the shop, trying to stabilize his lanky body by holding one of the glass doors that’s almost closing, without any chance.

Kyungsoo feels nailed into place.

His mind is repeatedly shouting at him to leave as soon as possible, as the sharp sound of sirens grows in urgency, blocking any other noise. It reaches its peak when the ambulance passes by the convenience store. In a fraction of second, it disappears, taking everything back with it; but not before the three of them glance at it, at the bright lights of the beacon.

Kyungsoo’s heart is suddenly thumping in his chest as blue light flashes into his deep brown eyes. It disappears just as rashly, like the red in the boy’s or the white glimmer in the manager’s, as the ambulance keeps speeding into the distance, leaving the three of them unable to make a move.

It’s silent once again, and all Kyungsoo can hear is his heart pounding painfully loud in his chest. He looks back once again at the boy and the ‘manager,’ standing still as they stare in the direction where the ambulance disappeared from their sight.

Suddenly, walking towards the bus stop hasn’t felt more necessary than today for Do Kyungsoo, who almost sprints in its direction when a hand grips his wrist.

“Don’t leave me…” the same weak voice says.

“I have nowhere to go.”

“And you have nowhere to go with me.” Kyungsoo says, snapping his hand free and rubbing his wrist.

The man in the doorframe falls to the ground, the sliding doors catching him between them and then, he starts laughing loudly, head falling to his knees.

“Did-did he…steal?” he asks, between breathy laughs, trying to lift his head. His efforts are in vain, because it falls back to his knees. “He stole!” he laughs once more, loud and cheery.

“You know what?! I’ve had enough of this. I’m leaving.” Kyungsoo says, turning around. “Don’t even think about following me or I’ll call the cops.” He snarls at the boy.

“Please…I have nowhere to go…” the boy says, hand moving forward, but hesitating.

“And you feel like telling a stranger will bring you anywhere?” Kyungsoo says, not looking back as he’s already walking towards the bus stop.

“Don’t leave me…” the boy says once more, hugging himself close as he looks back at the man still standing in the doorframe and giggling to himself. “Don’t…”

But Kyungsoo can’t hear him anymore and truth be told, he doesn’t even want to. The only reasonable thing Do Kyungsoo wants in this moment is for him to finally get home and throw himself on his still unmade bed. His home, where towers of clothing litter every surface, which he couldn’t bring himself to take care of. His home, where for the past week he woke up after 6 snooze buttons, instead of the usual three.

As Do Kyungsoo finally enters his apartment, practically kicking the door shut with his foot and hitting the lightning switch with his elbow, a couple of bus stops away from him, more exactly, 10, the young shop lifter and the drunk manager are still standing in the street, each of them looking at something else.

The boy at his used snickers and the man straight at the boy, a hazy daze all over his face. The doors to the convenience store keep trying to close, perpetually hitting his body, but he doesn’t move, too tired and drunk to even make another step into the street filled with cars that could hit him.

“So, you stole from my shop?” the man asks, half laughing, half looking as if he was grimacing in pain.

He receives no answer, as the boy finally starts walking, slowly but surely to the bus stop.

In the exact same moment, Do Kyungsoo is turning off the light in his small bedroom and pulls the covers onto his body, not caring enough that there are still clothes scattered across his blankets and bedroom.

The night passed quickly, and in the morning, the three of them cannot remember if the events of yesterday actually took place.

With mechanical movements, Kyungsoo changes into his work clothes, looking for an unhealthy amount of time at the sparkling card on his desk, making everything scattered around pale in comparison. He walks over to it and takes it into his hand, rubbing the textured surface with his thumbs. He sees his brother’s name, and the phrase ‘wedding,’ and suddenly the card feels uncomfortably heavy. The longer he keeps looking at it, the brighter it seems that it’s getting.

“Fuck it,” he says, letting it slip out of his hands and fall directly into the recycle bin, filled with papers and take out packages.

The cherry on top of the trash.

And Do Kyungsoo would say that curse words are not part of his vocabulary, at least not in front of his relatives or mother for that matter; but over the span of not even 24 hours, curse words have become second nature, making him feel better and worse at the same time.

He would also say, just in front of his mother, that picking a cigarette from the pack neatly tucked in his jeans isn’t something he does, especially when he feels like right now. Because in the big scheme of things that it is Do Kyungsoo’s life, adding a vice to the list of his inabilities wouldn’t be that much of a surprise.

So, Kyungsoo takes the lighter from the nightstand and lights the cigarette between his fingers, which he quickly brings to his lips. He deeply inhales, taking in the smoke and holding it for a while, before he lets out a thick cloud into the air.

“Fuck, now it’s going to smell bad in here..” he says, waving his hand around, before the smoke disappears, but the scent lingers even after he leaves the apartment and strides towards the bus stop in front of his building complex. He sits down on the bench and glances at his watch.

“5 minutes late, 10 minutes walking to the entrance door, 20 minutes the ride, almost 40 minutes. Late again.” Kyungsoo sighs and chooses to light just another cigarette, right when the bus stops in front of him.

“Shit.” he throws it on the ground, crushing it with his foot, not even bothering to blow it and place it back into the package.

Useless and rather untruthful to say is that Do Kyungsoo enjoyed his job, or that when the clock turned 5, he didn’t practically rush out of his small cubicle.

His phone immediately buzzes in his pocket, but he chooses to ignore it, as he has chosen to ignore anything remotely related to his life for the past eight hours, even though glimpses from the incident at the convenience store and the glittery paper have been flashing through his mind.

And as he walks without a clear purpose in mind, his fingers effortlessly finding their way to the pack of almost-empty cigarettes, he finds himself in front of that convenience store. Shrugging, he looks up at the too bright sign with glittering letters. He almost expects the same boy to come out of the place.

But no one does.                                                          

“You’re an idiot.” Kyungsoo huffs at himself. With a bitter smile, he continues his stride to the nearby bus stop.

It’s noisy and crowded, with several people waiting to finally go home from work, impatiently looking into the direction the bus will arrive from. Kyungsoo wouldn’t say he has anywhere to hurry to, at least not to the mountain the dishes in the sink, or the unmade bed, or the trash threatening to spill out.

So, quietly waiting, with the last cigarette between his lips, he sees another ambulance passing by him, this time white light reflecting into his dark eyes. White light into his, and icy, blue light into the boy’s, standing right behind him.

Kyungsoo hears shuffling behind him as he continues staring in the direction the ambulance disappeared to, and when he turns around, he is face to face with the same boy from last night, dressed in the same purple hoodie.

“I don’t have anywhere to sleep.” The boy says, glancing down to his shoes before meeting Kyungsoo’s gaze.

Kyungsoo throws the stub on the ground, crushing it with his shoe, before he looks back at the boy who’s indeed a couple of centimeters taller than him. His hair is all over the place, a couple of locks covering his eyes, as his cheeks are flushed and his hands tucked in the pockets of the garment.

“I could be a rapist.” Kungsoo says, turning around, trying to repeat the actions of the other people in the bus stop, all looking after something.

“I don’t care.”

“Then you must be an idiot.” he laughs, quick, but not amused.

“Then let me sleep on your couch.” the boy says, walking slowly, until he’s face to face once again with the elder.

“I don’t have one.” Kyungsoo says, taking a few steps aside as the bus stops in front of them and he rapidly climbs up into it, with the mass of people following him.

The doors close shut behind him, and when he looks back through the dirty window, the boy is still standing in the same spot, watching the leave. Further away, until Kyungsoo looks away from the window, looking straight in front of him, wondering how in only 24 hours, since the moment he received that glittery card, his life has turned this sour.

He keeps wondering even when he steps out of the bus, into the not so crowded street anymore, walking towards his apartment complex.  His usual stride from the stop to his front door takes 5 minutes - to be more exact, 5 minutes and 15 seconds, with small variations, but for some reason, this time it takes him 10 minutes, 10 minutes and 25 seconds, if we include the 22 seconds of searching for his keys and then dropping them on the floor.

It takes only 2 seconds to spin around and be face to face once again with the boy from the supermarket, the boy from the bus stop, the boy whose eyes are shining a red and white light.

“Please let me sleep on the couch.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are well loved :)


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